Strange Little Happenings
by broken shards
Summary: Strange things are happening...right in Hogwarts. Chapter 11- Tiny Fight In the Corridor. Harry decides to go see Dobby. Sounds boring, eh?! r/r to help a poor girl put food on the table. (ok, fine, so ffnet doesn't pay. Bah.)
1. 1 Nighttime Capers

_Rating: PG_

_m/m relationships_

_Oddness galore._

CHAPTER 1- Nighttime Capers 

Ron threw off the covers and sat up, sweating. It was night, or at least extreme early morning, and a ray of moonlight shone through the window onto Neville's bed. Ron glanced over at Harry's bed, and saw that the curtains were drawn. He could also hear muffled sounds coming from within. 

_ Guess Malfoy's riding him hard tonight_. Ron yawned, and chuckled quietly. It was a little joke he shared with Seamus when they were in the library and Harry nowhere to be found. Ron hated Malfoy with all his heart and wished the pale bastard would drop dead (preferably while flying on his broomstick in midair), but the notion of Harry and Malfoy being secret lovers had amused him to no end when Seamus had suggested it. It explained Harry's strange disappearances and abated Ron's dejection at finding Harry, the Marauders Map and the Invisibility Cloak missing from the dorm frequently. But, and here Ron shrugged, it was Harry's business where he went, and if he didn't want his best friend to know, fine. There was bound to be a very good reason, and Ron was sure Harry would let him in on all the secrecy sooner or later. 

A noise, sounding like a suppressed sob, jolted Ron out of his thoughts. Another nightmare, no doubt, and Ron wondered whether he should go and quiet his friend with soothing words. Although, remembering the last time he tried that, words would not nearly be as helpful as a tranquilizer. Ron still had a faint scar across his cheek from where Harry had lashed out at him. 

_ Maybe I should go cut his nails and _ then_ tell him to shut up_, he thought sleepily, as Harry continued to moan.

Groaning, Ron pushed himself off the bed and tumbled awkwardly onto the floor with a 'flump'*. "Gah," he muttered, and crawled towards Harry's bed, navigating his way around Seamus' socks and underpants that lay strewn carelessly on the floor by the light of the moon. _Stupid git needs a wife_, he thought, a comment which will be excused considering his tired state of mind and his lack of sleep.

As he hauled himself to the side of Harry's bed, he heard a soft snore, followed by a faint cry. Ron sighed, wondering what time it was, and dove underneath the curtain. Dragging himself onto the bed, his saw there was someone lying in Harry's bed. A second glance confirmed it was Harry (ha, got you there!). But Ron's eyes widened as he realised there was someone_ else_ sleeping besides him.

* * *

* Dat's rite. ain't u neva hrd of a 'flump' b4?

_Coming up..._**Chapter 2-  Three in a Bed**


	2. 2 Three In A Bed

CHAPTER 2- Three in a Bed 

"Ron Weasley?" Eyes flew open and Ron stared back, shocked.

"Dobby? What the hell are you doing sleeping with Harry? Wait, that didn't come out right…"

"Ron Weasley, Harry Potter's best friend!" The house-elf sat up quickly, staring wide-eyed at the bewildered Griffindor. "Dobby was not…Dobby would never…uh…"

"Sound awfully guilty for somebody who denies everything." Ron quirked an eyebrow and folded his arms. "Man, I knew you liked him but not _this_ much!"

"Wha-?! No, no, Ron Weasley must NOT think…wh…whatever Ron Weasley is thinking right now." Dobby trembled and his eyes began to water. The freckled boy was alarmed.

"Don't cry Dobby! I was just kidding- I wasn't thinking anything!" Ron wryly imagined Malfoy's retort to that one.

Dobby sniffed and raised his arm, pointing to Ron with a quivering finger. Ron reflexively took a step backwards, but suddenly there was a flash of white light and Ron yelped, falling off the bed. Touching his chest to find he was unhurt, he yelled, "What was that?!"

"Dobby is sorry!" the house-elf said tearfully, wringing his hands. "Dobby used elf magic to make sure no one hears what goes on here."

"Fine!" Ron snapped, standing up and sitting back on the bed. "Next time warn me before you use any of your elf magic, okay?"

"Yes Ron Weasley." Dobby hung his head, and Ron sighed. Snuggled comfortably beneath the covers, Harry slept soundly.

Noticing Ron's line of vision, Dobby said quietly, "Harry Potter does not have bad dreams when best friend Ron Weasley is here." Ron blushed.

"It's not me," he protested. "He has bad dreams whether I'm here or not." He looked up at Dobby. "Is that why you're here?" he asked, frowning. "To make sure Harry doesn't have any more nightmares?

"No, I'm here to admire his remarkable physique, what do you think?" Dobby gasped and clamped his hands over his mouth. Ron was taken aback.

"Dobby," he said, knitting his eyebrows, "is this something that developed overnight, or did you always make drawling, wisecracking remarks and I just never noticed it?"

"Dobby…Dobby _never_…" He shook his head furiously, frowning hard. Suddenly, as if a light had been switched on, Dobby jerked his head up and ran headfirst for the bedpost.

"Dobby!" Ron shouted in dismay as Dobby slammed into the wooden post, tottering on his spindly legs before falling off the bed. Rolling his eyes, the red head walked around the bed and picked up the house-elf by the arm, dumping him onto the red quilt covers. Dobby sat cross-legged and looked down at his lap. 

Ron took a deep breath. "Dobby," he said with restrained patience, "you don't belong to anyone now. You're a free elf! You don't have to beat yourself up every time you do something you _weren't_ supposed to do because now you can do it." Ron scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Did that sentence make any sense?" He shrugged. "Hey, I'm meant to be asleep. I have an excuse."

"Dobby was just…" Dobby sighed. "Perhaps after so long being servant to the Malfoys, Dobby has picked up a few…catchphrases?"

Ron eyed the creature for a while and gave in. "Fine, we'll blame that strange little outburst on Malfoy's bad influence." He folded his arms and looked at Dobby sternly. "Look Dobby," he said firmly, "if you're here to help Harry and _not_ hurt him, that's fine with me. I just want to go back to bed. But I need to know, that's what you're doing, right, helping him?"

"Yes Ron Weasley," Dobby nodded affirmatively. "Dobby would _never_ want to hurt Harry intentionally."

_ Except for that time you knocked Harry off his broom with your rogue bludger, _Ron thought irritably_, and the time we nearly got killed by the Whomping Willow because you blocked the barrier to Platform 9 ¾…_

"You're making sure he has no more nightmares?"  
"Yes."

"And making sure he has no more nightmares involves you sleeping next to him?"

"Y-yes Ron Weasley." Dobby bowed his head, but Ron decided he couldn't bother pressing the matter.

"And why the hell hasn't Harry awoken with all this noise we've made?"

"B-because, Ron W-Weasley," Dobby stammered, gripping his hands tightly together, "Dobby cast a s-spell on Harry Potter so he w-will not be awoken by any outside n-noise till morn-ning?" He voice lifted at the end of his sentence, as if asking Ron if he accepted his response. Ron gave him a skeptical look, but accepted it with a wave of his hand. 

"Fine Dobby," he muttered, turning around. "Goodnight." He pushed aside the curtain and stumbled back to bed.

* * *

_Coming up..._**Chapter 3- Wake up Harry!**


	3. 3 Wake Up Harry!

CHAPTER 3- **Wake up Harry!**

Next morning, as Ron lay awake in his bed, he felt vaguely guilty that he had not questioned Dobby further. For example, _why_ was he helping Harry overcome his nightmares? Did Harry ask him to sleep with him? Ron mentally shook his head. That was just ridiculous. And why did Dobby seem so…guilty? Was he lying? Was he really there to help Harry? Ron remembered Dobby banging his head into the post and winced at the memory. Some rules instilled in him back when he was a bound servant stayed with him, and perhaps, so did his loyalty to…Malfoy? After all, he had sounded just like him when he'd answered Ron, and his stammered responses were extremely questionable. Could it be that Malfoy had used Dobby to do something unspeakably evil to Harry because he knew that Dobby was Harry's friend?

And had Ron just let Dobby off the hook even though he knew something else was going on?

"Argh!" Ron scrunched up his eyes and covered his face with his hands, pressing the back of his head hard into the pillow. He was such an idiot.

Deftly doing up the top button of his pyjamas (which had somehow come undone), he rolled out of bed and headed for Harry's. The curtains were still closed, and a moan from his left confirmed that the other Griffindor boys were just waking up.

Ron yanked open the curtains and stared at Harry, sleeping peacefully on his side with a smile on his face and a lovely pink flush to his cheeks. Dobby was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey Ron," muttered Dean from behind. Ron didn't turn around, just kept staring hard at his best friend.

Dean stood next to him. "Huh, Harry looks dead to the world," he commented, scratching his arm. Seamus came over and stood on the other side of Ron, his light green pyjamas standing out against the red bed sheets.

"He looks so peaceful," he murmured. "Let's wake him up!" He cackled and a wicked smile spread on his face. Before Ron or Dean could stop him, Seamus launched himself at the sleeping boy and sprawled himself over the bed, yelling, "WAAAKE UP HARRY!"

Harry took in a deep, shuddering breath and gasped out, "Dobby!" Then he opened his eyes to find Seamus gazing intently at him three inches away from his face.

"Huh," the Irish boy said frowning, "out of all the names I thought you'd scream out in your sleep, I never thought it'd be a house-elf."

Dean bit his lip to stop himself from laughing, and went back to his bed to change. Ron shook his head, smiling. Harry blushed.

"Uh, Seamus? Could you get off me please?" he asked politely. Seamus obliged and stepped down from the bed. As he went back to his bed, Harry reached over and picked up his glasses from the bedside table. Putting them on, he realised Ron was standing there with his arms folded, his expression a cross between confusion and amusement.

"Hey Ron," Harry greeted, hopping out of bed. "What's up?"

"Other than this rather odd relationship you seem to have with Dobby?" Ron said softly, trying not to grin. 

Harry frowned. "Dobby? Huh? What do you mean?"

"Well, perhaps you don't regard it as a 'relationship', although you did share a bed…" Ron nearly laughed at Harry's shocked expression but continued, "or was it just a one-night stand?"

"WHAT?!" the raven-haired boy exclaimed, his eyes wide. "RON!" He smacked his best friend hard on the arm and Ron burst into laughter. Seamus came running up, his checkered shirt only half buttoned. 

"What? What?" he said cheerfully. "What did I miss?"

"You didn't miss a thing," Harry said dryly. "After all, you _are_ the center of the universe, so nothing important could have happened without you being a part of it."

Far from being insulted, Seamus grinned. "Oh yeah, of course! How could I forget?!" And he flounced off. Ron shook his head, smiling.

"That guy did not need any more ego boosting Harry," he said. Harry chuckled.

"Yeah I know. Now what's this about Dobby?" he said incredulously, folding his arms.

"Hey, Harry, Ron." Neville's voice wafted over to the two boys. "Are you coming for breakfast?"

"In a minute," Harry said dismissively without turning around. He heard Seamus tell Neville to leave them alone: "Let them 'bond' in peace Nev…Harry and Ron can't jump each other with us in the room, can they?" Harry rolled his eyes as Ron yelled out, "We heard that!"

* * *

_Coming up..._**Chapter 4- #Malfoy & Harry, Sittin' in a Tree…#**


	4. 4 Malfoy and Harry sittin' in a Tree

CHAPTER 4- **#Malfoy & Harry, Sittin' in a Tree…#**

Ron told Harry about what happened the night before and Harry confirmed that he'd never asked Dobby to help him with his nightmares. He was just astonished that Dobby had spent the night with him without him knowing.

"So, you think Malfoy's got something to do with this?" Ron asked as they both sat down on Harry's bed.

Harry shook his head. "Dobby would never do what Malfoy told him to do. He hates the Malfoys."

"Then what could it be?" Ron shrugged. "Seriously Harry, you should have heard him when he said…what was it? Something about your physique or something."

"My _physique?!_"

"Yeah. He sounded _just_ like Malfoy."

Harry pursed his lips. "Well," he said slowly, "there is the possibility…but you don't think…? Nah," Harry dismissed the thought. "That wouldn't make sense…"

"What?"

"Nothing."

_ "What?_ Come on Harry!"

"Well…" Harry took a deep breath, his face reflecting his skepticism at the idea. "I suppose…well, I suppose it could have been _Malfoy_ who was, um…_pretending _to be Dobby. I mean," he added hastily, seeing Ron's dumbfounded look, "I know it's a stupid thought, but, I mean…if Malfoy had used Polyjuice Potion or something-- but there are so many inconsistencies in _ that_ idea I wouldn't know where to begin!" He quirked at eyebrow at Ron. "What do you think?"

Ron was thinking, _If it **was** Malfoy, could that mean Seamus' joke is actually true?!_ But he didn't say that. Instead he said, "I think that you're right, there are heaps of inconsistencies in that idea. Like, why would Malfoy bash his head against a bedpost?"

"All part of the act I suppose," Harry suggested, "to make him seem more like a house-elf."

"And would Polyjuice Potion give Malfoy powers only endowed to elves?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe. We'd have to ask Hermione that one."

"And why exactly would Malfoy want to be _sleeping_ next to you in the first place?"

"I…uh…well, um…" Harry blushed bright red and looked down at his hands. 

"No answer to that one, hey Potter?" Ron teased and was awarded with a scowl. "Perhaps he just wanted to admire your manly _ physique?!!_" Ron laughed loudly as Harry chased him down to the Common Room.

* * *

_Coming up..._**Chapter 5- Eavesdropping Hermione**


	5. 5 Eavesdropping Hermione

CHAPTER 5- Eavesdropping Hermione 

"Yo, Harry, wassup?"

"Nothing much." Harry glanced at Ron, then whipped his head back towards Hermione. "Er…what did you say Herm?"

"I said what are you doing? You are Ron were taking so long in your dorm, I thought Ron had got his head stuck in his trunk again!"

Ron grimaced. "I thought we said we'd never bring that up again!" he scowled.

Hermione smirked and put her hands on her hips. "And why are you both still in your nightclothes?" she demanded.

Harry looked down at his stripey pyjamas and scratched his head. "I forgot to change," he said sheepishly, and his best friend gave him reproachful look. 

"Really Harry," she chided sternly, "You're becoming even more forgetful than Neville!"

"Now that's a little insulting isn't it Herm?" Ron joked. He turned to Harry. "Come on Harry, let's go and look respectable." They raced up the stairs back to their dorm, and Hermione settled herself in a large armchair, hoping they would hurry up. The three were the only ones left in the Griffindor Tower, seeing as all the students had gone to have breakfast in the Great Hall.

------------

Annoyed at what was taking her best friends so long, Hermione stormed up the stairs to their dorm room. But before she could knock, she heard a noise…someone shouting. Following the sound, Hermione found it led to the Weasley twins' dorm. Straining to hear, Hermione put her ear to the door—

"Yes,.yes!"

"Oh God, Fred, yes!"

"More, George…just…oh, that's the way…!"

"Fred, I'm…I'm…"

"Yes! Come on George! George!"

Alarmed, Hermione scuttled back, hitting the wall. Was that—? Could it be—? Were Fred and George—? 

"Hey Hermione." The brunette whirled around to come face to face with Fred…or George? Well, one of the Weasley twins in any case. She gasped, and Fred/George looked surprised. "What's the matter? You look very pale. Are you sick?"

"F-fred? What are you-"

"I'm George actually," George corrected pleasantly. "Fred's in there," he pointed to his dormitory, "and I'm just bringing him back some food." He held up his hand, which was carrying a plateful of pancakes and toast. "What are you still doing here?"

"Oh…I'm…" Hermione cleared her throat and tried to recover herself. "I'm waiting for Harry and Ron to get dressed, but they're taking _ ever_ so –"

She cut herself off as she heard the voices again, emerging from behind the door.

"Please! Do it! Oh God, _yes!!_"

"Yes, Fred, FRED!"

"Harder George, harder! Ooooh!" 

"Hermione? Are you okay?" George had a concerned expression on his face, as Hermione's eyes seemed to have glazed over, her mouth wide open in shock.

"I…I…" She turned to George, and as the voices became louder and more insistent, her face flushed red as she realised the very George that Fred wanted to have 'pump harder' was right in front of her.

"Um…George?" she said hesitantly, trying to block out the sounds of sexual gratification coming from inside the room. "What exactly is going on in your dorm?"

"What do you mean?" George furrowed his eyebrows. "Well, me and Fred are designing some new prototypes for our-"

"Who's in there?!" Hermione interrupted loudly. "If those two yell any louder, Dumbledore will probably hear it from the Great Hall!"

"What? Who? Which two? Hermione," George scratched his head with his free hand, "are you okay? You seem a little…well, off-centre, to be frank."

The door swung open and Fred burst out, looking amazed and fascinated. "George, you gotta come and check this out!" he said excitedly. "You won't believe what's going on here!"

"What?" said Hermione.

Fred noticed Hermione standing there for the first time. "Oh, Hermione," he said flatly. "Um, well…nothing you'd be interested in. Stuff for our joke shop, you know." He reached over to George and grabbed his arm. "Come on!" he insisted, and pulled him in. The door slammed shut. The voices seemed to quicken, and Hermione heard an eruption of laughter come from within the dorm. No wanting to hear the climax of the…erm, _thing_, she quickly escaped back down the stairs into the Common Room to wait for her friends.

* * *

*isn't it funny how all these chapters seem to have nothing to do with each other? Aren't you confused as to where this story is going? Well, don't worry, so am I! I have no plan. I just write one chapter ahead of what I post so i can say what's coming up...*

_Coming up..._**Chapter 6- Will the Real Harry Please Stand Up?**

*HOLD ON MISGUIDED READER! I need to know a few things for the next chapter. 

2) Did Harry buy Ron a Viktor Krum figurine at the Quidditch World cup? What else did he buy him?

sigh maybe I just need one of those _beta_ readers everyone keeps harping on about...*


	6. 6 Will the Real Harry Please Stand Up

CHAPTER 6- Will the Real Harry Please Stand Up? 

Ron dressed in record time and waited impatiently for Harry to comb his hair.

"Harry!" he sighed, swinging his legs as he sat on his bed. "Hurry up! Just leave your hair as it is- messy hair is your trademark. Well, along with the round, black glasses and of course, that lightning bolt scar on your forehead…"  
"Hold on Ron," Harry muttered, not taking his eyes of the mirror. He ran the comb through his hair a couple of times more, then- "Done!"

"Great, I'm starving. Let's go!" Ron jumped off the bed and headed towards the door. "Can you just imagine what Hermione must be thinking?" When there was no reply, Ron turned around. "Harry?"

But Harry had disappeared. Ron's jaw dropped open. He ran to Harry's trunk and threw it open. Just as he'd suspected- the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map weren't there.

"Ron, what are you doing?" Ron twirled around to find Harry standing near the door, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Harry?" Ron's face showed disbelief. "What the hell? How did you get there?"  
"What are you talking about? I thought you went down to the Common Room?"

"What?"

"Okay," Harry laughed, "I think we're both lost. Let's just go down to the Common Room and get Hermione. Maybe if we eat breakfast our heads will clear."

"Hold on Harry." Ron slowly walked forward, his gaze trained upon his best friend. Harry felt slightly uneasy at the way Ron was coming towards him.

"Um, Ron? What…what are you doing?" Ron stopped a foot away from Harry.

"What did we talk about this morning?" the redhead barked suddenly, and Harry blinked, surprised.

"What? This morning? Ron, are you-"

"Stop stalling and answer the question!" Harry tried not to react to Ron's harshness; he answered, "We were talking about Dobby sleeping in my bed, and how maybe it was really Malfoy. Ron, what's wrong?"

"What did you buy me at the Quidditch World Cup?"

"Um…you mean the figurine of Viktor Krum which you dismembered? Uh-"

"What's Percy's owl's name?"  
"Percy's _owl_?" Harry pushed his hair away from his eyes, wondering what had gotten into Ron. "Oh hell, Ron, I don't know. I know your owl is Pigwidgeon, which Ginny named, and I know your family owl – wait! I got it! Hermes!"

Ron eyed him doubtfully, but nodded. "That's right," he admitted. "Perfect prefect Percy got a new owl, and I got an old rat."

"Which Snuffles replaced with an owl," Harry interjected, wanting to prove to Ron that…what was it Ron wanted him to prove? "Why all the questions Ron?"

"Sorry Harry," Ron said, relaxing his tense shoulders. "I just wanted to be sure that you were the _real_ Harry." He narrowed his eyes. "Especially after you suddenly disappeared then reappeared on the other side of the room."

"What? What are you talking about?" Harry gave Ron a strange look. "Perhaps you're feeling a bit light-headed. See, this is why we should go and eat some breakfast! _I'm_ famished, and _you're_ not thinking straight!"

"Harry," said the other boy, folding his arms, "Where is the Invisibility Cloak? Where is the Marauder's Map?"

"Um," Harry thought for a moment. "I lent the Invisibility Cloak to Sirius, and….oh yeah, Lee wanted to borrow the map."

Ron blinked. "Lee?" he repeated stupidly. "Lee Jordan? Why would he need the map when he's got Fred and George?"

"Fred and George had a fight with Lee, so they're not speaking at the moment. Some argument over a girl or something." Harry shrugged. "He asked to borrow it, so I lent it. He doesn't have all the secret passages of the school memorised like the twins do. Okay? This is getting really annoying Ron."

Ron unfolded his arms and sighed. "Yeah, I'm sorry Harry," he apologised for the second time that morning, feeling drained. "Let's go meet Hermione."

* * *

_Coming up..._**Chapter 7- A Typical Brekkie at Hogwarts**

*For the_ next _chapter (don't like to research), could someone please tell me what Arithmancy is? What does one learn in it?


	7. 7 A Typical Brekkie At Hogwarts

**Chapter 7- A Typical Brekkie at Hogwarts**

As Neville scoffed down his scrambled egg, listening intently to Angelina Johnson argue with a seventh year girl about the benefits of Gillyweed, Lavender looked disgustedly at the yellow and white mess. "Look at him," she muttered to Parvati, who agreed that Neville Longbottom was the most nauseating eater on the Griffindor table. They decided that Colin Creevey had perfectly lovely table manners, and that Ginny should learn how to hold her fork and knife properly.

As Ron, Hermione and Harry sat down, Lavender and Parvati discreetly observed their table etiquette. Hermione was impeccable, her movements calm and steady, and she did not talk as she ate. Ron and Harry, on the other hand, appeared to be in an incredible hurry as they piled everything onto their plate and shoveled it all down their throats at an astonishing speed. They also spoke constantly, chatting amicably to everyone around them as they chewed noisily.

"Boys." Lavender shook her head as Parvati joined in.

--

Gregory jerked involuntarily as he felt someone's hand touch his knee. The hand was removed as he looked up at the person beside him, who happened to be Draco. Greg lifted an eyebrow. Draco's hands were underneath the table, and he was talking to Adrian Pucey about the aerodynamics of the new Sovereign brooms out this month. Looking back down at his plate, with only a few crumbs remaining on it to show what had been there, he felt the hand touch his knee again, and he concentrated on the crumbs, trying to ignore the fingers that were stroking his skin now.

Turning to his right, he saw Yentl Poisen, a Slytherin girl in his own grade. She turned to him and smiled, her sharpened teeth flashing white. Greg sucked in a breath and turned back to his plate, feeling the warm hand sliding up his leg. It was now caressing his thigh. What had made him wear shorts? _The hot weather you fool_, he remembered.

From the corner of his eye he could see Yentl smiling to herself, and sometimes glancing at him before turning away. He sighed. Girls were such idiots. His mother wanted him to get a girlfriend, but they were just too…out there for him. His own sister at Durmstrang was hard enough to handle during school holidays. 

As the fingers lazily drew small circles on his skin, Greg gulped down the rest of his orange juice, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and turned to face Yentl. The hand was pulled away as he cleared his throat.

"Excuse me Yentl," he said quietly in his deep voice, "but I am not interested." The Slytherin girl looked taken aback.

"Not interested? Not interested in what?"

"In you. Sorry." Yentl looked furious and reached out for an orange piece, which she squeezed with one hand into her cup and drank the juice in one gulp. Greg was impressed.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "Just don't touch my leg again, alright?"

"Excuse me?" She turned her blazing eyes onto Greg. "What makes you think I'd want to even _touch_ something like _you_?" she sneered, and Greg was taken aback.

He turned to his other side, but Draco had already left.

-----

Harry groaned as he let his head hit the table. "Man, I ate too much!" he cried.  
"Of course you did and it's only breakfast!" Hermione said, tut-tutting. Ron grinned at his two best friends.

"I could eat a whole unicorn!" he crowed and Hermione gasped.

"Ron!" she scolded. "That's awful!"

"Oh calm down Herm," he muttered, "it's only a figure of speech." Turning to Harry, he asked, "What do we have first?" 

"Divination," Dean answered loudly from the other side of the table.

"I have Arithmancy first," Hermione announced as she stood up. "I want to meet the professor early. I hope he's finished marking the essay I handed in on 'The Dichotomy of Numbers and Divination'."

"Goodluck Hermione," Harry called out as she scurried off. He stretched and stood up. "I gotta go to the bathroom," he said to Ron. "Meet you in the classroom?" 

"Okay," his freckled friend agreed. And they parted ways.

* * *

_Coming up..._**Chapter 8-  This is Where It Gets Serious…;)**


	8. 8 This Is Where It Gets Serious

**Chapter 8-  This is Where It Gets Serious…;)**

Draco stood at the sink, washing his hands. He was alone in the school toilets, which he preferred. For some reason he was unable to 'empty his bladder' while there were others milling around. It made him uncomfortable

As he wiped his wet hands on his black cloak, a familiar voice made him groan internally.

"Hello Malfoy."

He spun around. "Potter," he spat out, "how is it possible you always know where I am? Stop following me!"

Potter looked surprised. "I don't follow you," he said quietly. "It's as if…I can just sense where you are, that's all."

"Bullshit." Draco strode up to Potter and grabbed the front of his shirt. "Leave me alone. I know what you want…"

"You do?"

Something in his eyes made him want to back down. Draco released the Griffindor, stepping backwards. "I think I do," he muttered. "And the answer is no! So just…just go and stop stalking me!" He scowled and walked back to the sink. He forgot he'd already washed his hands as he turned on the tap, hoping that Potter would have left by the time he turned around again.

"You're not that wonderful you know," Potter's voice drifted over his shoulder. Draco rolled his eyes. _That_ was his archenemy's scathing remark, that he was 'not that wonderful'? Draco pondered that. He was not _that_ wonderful, but that didn't mean he wasn't still _wonderful_. Draco didn't respond to Potter aloud.

Potter tried again. "Sometimes I wonder if you even have feelings," he said over the sound of the gushing water. "Or…or if you even have a _brain_." Draco shook his head imperceptibly. Potter was really going nowhere- he was floundering. Not even any good arguments; he also realised it was pointless trying but he was not used to giving up. "I mean," he continued, "if you did, you would realise that for one, you're not well liked by many…" Draco almost sniggered out loud. That was the understatement of the century. "And two, you know, this means that your capacity for happiness is rather restricted, and you'll never be happy because you'll always be alone." This struck a chord deep in Draco, and the anger in him swelled rapidly. He spun around and strode forward, grabbing Potter's coat lapels and shoving him hard against the wall. The black-haired boy cried out but Draco ignored him.

"How _dare_ you!" he snarled. "You think I don't _ deserve_ happiness?"

"I didn't say that!" Potter choked out. "But you…nobody likes you Malfoy, because you don't like anyone. That's why your…your happiness is _limited!_"

"Ah, so you're thinking I should settle for the only thing I have the possibility of procuring happiness from. _Is that what your thinking?_" He let go of the boy and glared at him. "Potter," he said through gritted teeth, "I don't like you. I don't even _respect_ you, especially after this episode. What makes you think I could…could…" Draco shuddered, and seeing this, Potter looked saddened.

"You could, couldn't you?" he murmured, and the silver-haired Slytherin looked at him. There was a small pause.

"Yes I _could_," he replied irritably, turning away. "But that doesn't mean I _want_ to."

"Why not?!" Potter shouted, and he brought his fists to his eyes. Draco sighed. He wished his nemesis wasn't so _emotional_ all the time. It was like hating a little girl, but it had to be done.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke. "Potter, Harry, whatever it is, I couldn't make you happy nor you me." Potter lowered his hands and his shimmering green eyes connected with piercing grey ones. Draco spoke calmly, with surprising gentleness, and the Griffindor was impressed. 

Draco continued. "I'm not a complete idiot," he said, smirking. "I know what you saw in me. You thought just because I was nice to you and a complete arse to everyone else that meant something. _It doesn't, Potter_, and I'm sorry to break your heart. You're looking for someone who can show you the true depth of their feelings for you through their actions, and I'm in a great position to do that since everyone knows me as the mean-spirited Grinch with a horrible background of evil. If I suddenly mend my ways, turn all moral and virtuous, have a complete attitude change, transform myself into something that does _good_ and _heals_ the world instead of harming it…well, that would mean I must care for you a lot, right? To make such a sacrifice? To do something so drastic as to _change myself for you?_ Am I right Potter?"

Potter looked miserable, and he hung his head, his fingers knotted together. Draco could pity him. He knew what it was like to discover the difference between achieving love and simply _loving_.

He felt the desire to tell Potter something about himself. Reveal something, just so the other boy wouldn't think the closeness he'd felt over the last month or so was a total illusion.

"If I tell you something," Draco said quietly, looking down at the ground, "will you promise never to reveal it to anyone?" He felt Potter's startled eyes searching his face for a sign of sarcasm, but there was none.

"I won't say a word."

"I…I do love someone Potter, only it's not you." He spoke in a rush, squeezing his eyes shut in anxiety for the ridiculing that was sure to follow. He waited for the smaller boy to start informing him curtly that his object of affection probably felt nothing but distaste for him, and even if there was interest from the other side, Draco's appalling personality would soon drive them away.

He waited, but nothing was spoken. Opening his eyes, he found himself staring into a sea of emerald-green. Harry was crying. _Shit_.

He fished out a forgotten tissue from his coat and handed it to Potter. "Stop it," he said harshly, but Potter only bit his lip and let the silent tears cascade down his cheeks. He ignored Draco's offer. Sighing, Draco gently wiped the other boy's wet cheeks and around his eyes, feeling extremely maternal and stupid. Luckily no one else had entered the toilets since Potter had come in.

"Do you always cry when you don't get what you want?" he muttered, holding the Griffindor's chin up so he could dab more easily at his wet skin.

"That's not why I'm crying," Potter murmured defensively, closing his eyes.

"Then why are you?"

"Because I never thought I'd see the day Draco Malfoy confesses to actually _loving_ someone." He smiled and opened his eyes. "It was a very beautiful moment."  
"Whatever Potter. This is just between us."

"Sure Malfoy."

* * *

_Coming up..._**Chapter 9- More Strange Happenings…**

· I just want to know, do Slytherin and Griffindor still share a Charms class with Professor Flitwick? Or is it just Potions?

· And is the Patronus spell '_Expecto Patronum_'? With me asking all these questions everytime, it's kind of a hint as to what's coming up in the next chapter, eh?


	9. 9 More Strange Happenings

**Chapter 9- More Strange Happenings...**

The end of Ron's wand began to fizzle, and Ron frowned. "What the-"

Suddenly a shower of petunias burst forth and scattered all over the classroom. There were indignant cries as petals landed in drained teacups, obscuring the dregs that remained.

"Ron Weasley!" Professor Trelawney angrily stormed up, her cloak whipped around her. Flowers rested prettily in her hair and on her shoulders.

"I didn't do it!" Ron said without thinking, then cursed himself as Trelawney narrowed her eyes. Harry looked away so Ron wouldn't see him laughing.

"Mr. Weasley," she began sternly, "lying to a professor is only helpful if you want detention. Especially lying to a _ Divination_ professor, who already knew it was going to happen before it did."

_Then why didn't you stop me?_ Ron retorted in his head.

"Mr. Weasley, hand me your wand." Wordlessly, Ron handed it over, wondering vaguely if she was going to hit him on the head with it. But Professor Trelawney merely examined it closely with half-lidded eyes then gave it back. "You are feeling rather happy Mr. Weasley," she stated coldly, and Ron tried not to laugh. "In fact, you are feeling quite euphoric."

"Well I have been singing a lot recently." The words slipped out of Ron's mouth and the boys in the classroom sniggered. Professor Trelawney looked unamused.

"I said 'euphoric' not 'euphonic' Mr. Weasley. When a wand owner is exceptionally overjoyed," she continued dully, "their happiness may sometimes leak out through their wands and conjure strange charms…" She picked a petal off her shoulder and flicked it away disapprovingly. "Such as producing cheap flowers. The question is, Mr. Weasley, is there a specific reason why you are so happy?"

The class turned to Ron expectantly, and the redhead found himself blushing. "Uh…" he said hesitantly, "I, um…ate a good breakfast?"

The Griffindors broke into laughter as Trelawney continued to frown. "Well get over your morning meal," she snapped. "This is school time now, and I don't want you being happy anymore during my lesson!" As she strode off, Harry whispered to his best friend, "That's not a very hard objective to fulfil."

-------

Gregory sat at his desk, watching Professor Kaos cast his Patronus perfectly again and again. Kaos was a strict teacher, and expected all students to be able to cast their Patronus correctly by the end of the week. Greg looked across at Vincent, who was chewing unthinkingly on his quill. There was a time Greg used to do that, but his incessant gnawing meant he continually ruined his quills. Draco helped him get over his habit by giving him Raspberry Aortas to nibble on during class. When he'd handed over the box of heart-shaped candy, Greg almost thought he saw him blush, but he dismissed it as the effect of the heatwave.

Greg turned to look at Draco, who was twirling his wand with his fingers, a bored expression on his face. Something looked out of place, but Greg couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"What is it Goyle?" Draco muttered out of the corner of his mouth, his eyes still trained on Professor Kaos.

"Nothing," Greg said quickly, looking down at his desk. 'MB luvs BZ' was etched into the wood, and he wondered if it was Blaise Zabini that MB 'luvs'. 

"Spit it out."

"Well, um…" Greg decided what he'd ask. "Do you think Yentl Poisen is pretty?"

Draco twisted his head around to see her, Pansy and Millicent sitting in the back row. "Why?" he asked.

"Just…wondering. Do you?" He touched the letters engraved in the desk, tracing them with his index finger.

"Well…yeah, she's okay looking I suppose. Pansy's better. What, you like Poisen?" Greg looked up to see Draco smirking knowingly at him. He shrugged.

"I think she liked me," he said quietly.

"_Liked?_" Draco sighed, glancing at an occupied Kaos before turning back to his friend. "Alright Goyle, what happened? What did you do? You didn't say something stupid in front of her, did you?"

"Naw." Scratching his ear, he stared down at his desk again. Then he asked quietly, "Do you think Adrian Pucey is pretty?"

Draco almost choked on his saliva. "_What??_" he hissed, gawking at Greg. "Did you just ask me if I think Adrian Pucey is…is _pretty?_"

"Mr. Malfoy," a voice drawled from the front of the classroom. Draco snapped his head up and managed to look unruffled. "Could you please drag your focus away from Mr. Goyle and pay attention?" Professor Kaos said loudly. "This could save your life one day." Draco snorted quietly, and Professor Kaos gave him one last glare before turning back to the rest of the class.

"Slytherins," he announced, "you will now all pair up and practice casting your Patronus. I know there will be one girl unpaired, so Ms. Parkinson, you will be with me." Pansy growled softly as she stomped to the front of the room.

Draco could see Blaise trying to catch his eye, but he quickly turned to Greg and said gruffly, "Come on. Let's pair up." Greg nodded and they went to a corner of the large dungeon.

* * *

_Coming up..._**Chapter 10- LOST: Wand**

***A/N: Thanks for the ppl reviewing! To Elodie: Whoops! Well, thanks for telling me! I can't bother going back and fixing it...what IS that thing called? I can't recall it at the moment. 

Also, GinnyLyddieMalfoy, I'll keep that in mind! Thanks for telling me! But anyway, in the Australian versions, it's spelt Griffindor, not Gryffindor...

i feel special!...


	10. 10 LOST: Wand

Chapter 10- LOST: Wand

"I can't believe you didn't notice this before!" Hermione said in a loud voice as they sat by the lake, enjoying the cool breeze. It was their free period, and they decided to spend it outside.

"It was in my pocket most of the time Herm," Ron protested, "how was I to know?" Hermione shook her head.

"All wizards must be well-acquainted with their wand Ron. That's why every wizard has a particular wand suited to them- the wand and the owner are one!"

"One what?" asked Harry as he approached, pulling his coat off. Hermione smiled when she saw him.

"Harry, where have you been? We've been out here for ages." As he came closer, Hermione noticed he seemed a bit pale. "Are you okay Harry? You don't look well."

"I'm fine Herm," he said, although his smile was tinged with bitterness. He sat down next to Ron and looked at the wand placed in front of him. "What's up?"

"My wand's been switched," Ron said mournfully. 

"And he only just noticed," Hermione added, shaking her head. "That is just _shameful_."

"What do you mean?" Harry stared at the wand streaked with silver and gold. "This _isn't_ your wand?"

"No," Ron shook his head, "and I have _ no_ idea where mine is!"

"Well, then, whose wand is this?"

Ron shook his head again. "Haven't the foggiest clue."

Hermione reached out for it and looked at it thoughtfully. "Well, there's only one thing I can think of," she said firmly. "Ron, did you use the wand today?"

"No," Ron said. "Haven't had Charms or DADA yet…"

"Alright. This spell should show us the last person who used this wand. _ Declaro Nomen !" _

A ribbon of light slithered out of the wand and twisted into the shape of a word.

Harry's eyes widened. Hermione looked extremely taken aback. 

"Well, now, there must be something wrong with the way I said the spell…this is impossible!"

But Ron knew it wasn't. It must have been last night when the switch occurred. The ribbon started to fade away, and Hermione looked crossly at the wand.

"Okay, let's try this again," she began, but before she could say anything, Harry stopped her. 

"I think it was the truth," he said wonderingly. "I think the last user of the wand _was _Dobby."

* * *

_Coming up..._** Chapter 11- Bankruptcy…just kidding! Tiny Fight In the Corridor**

A/N: Sorry about it being such a short chapter. Hey, I had exams orright?! Thanks for the reviews.


	11. 11 Bankruptcyjust kidding! Tiny Fight In...

Chapter 11- ** Bankruptcy…just kidding! Tiny Fight In the Corridor**

"But Dobby…Harry, you know that's impossible! Elves aren't allowed to use wands ! Anyway, they have their own magic! Why would Dobby use a wand?"

Harry hit his head with the palm of his hand. "Damn, I forgot," he muttered. "I wanted to see Dobby today to ask him about-" He glanced at Hermione, who looked very suspicious as she folded her arms. "About what he's serving for dinner," he finished lamely, and Ron sniggered.

"Harry, Ron, there's something you're not telling me, isn't there?" She sighed.

"Hermione," Ron said kindly, patting her on the shoulder. "You don't want to know."

"Yes I do!" she insisted.

"Well," said Ron, stretching himself out on the grass, "it's a little tale about a lonely little boy named Harry and his strange bedfellows-"

"Okay," Hermione said quickly, "you're right, I don't want to know."

Harry glared at Ron who grinned back. "Come on," he muttered to Ron, "Let's go see my old friend the house-elf." He turned to Hermione. "Sorry Herm, do you mind?"

Hermione sighed and waved him away. "Go on Harry," she said tiredly, "I'll just enjoy the scenery."

--------

Blaise shoved Dean roughly and he fell hard on the floor. "_Shit,"_ he swore as he pushed himself up, glaring daggers at the Slytherin.

The old man in the painting punched the air. "That's it m'boy!" he crowed. "Sock it to him!" Blaise rolled his eyes and folded his arms. "Well Thomas," he taunted, smirking. "I guess that proves it. Slytherins are stronger than Griffindors."

"You cheated," Dean accused. "I wasn't even ready!" He stood up unsteadily, and Blaise shook his head.

"That's not my problem," he said smugly. "You gotta take every advantage handed to you. Exploit every weakness of your opponent. In your case, incompetence." He laughed as Dean scowled. "That's the difference between Slytherins and Griffindors," he said. "Griffindors may have the _courage_ to start wars, but it's the Slytherins who have the cunning to _win_ them."

"That's why we work so well together."

"What?" Dean's comment momentarily startled him.

"If we start the wars, and you win them, then together we can conquer anything!"

Blaise snorted. "Right. But did I also forget to mention that Slytherins are back-stabbing bastards who _hate_ working alongside anyone else, especially the pansy _Griffindors?_"

"And did I forget to mention that Griffindors never give up?" Before Blaise could blink, Dean had swiftly moved in front of Blaise and tripped him with his leg. Blaise stumbled backwards and fell, shrieking as he hit the ground. Dean stood over him, his hands on his hips, and smiled down victoriously at the Slytherin.

"Well done, oh fallen one," he smirked. "Remember: exploit every weakness- in your case, inattentiveness."

Blaise sneered, staring up at the towering Griffindor. "Impressive, Mr. Thomas," he snarled, imitating Professor Snape's voice. "Yes, Griffindors _never_ give up. But don't forget, you pretentious prick," and here he kicked the back of Dean's leg so he staggered and collapsed onto Blaise with an 'oomph!', "Slytherins _never_ lose."

Dean raised his head off the other boy's shoulder and glared at him. Blaise smirked.

"What the fuck are you smirking at?" Dean growled and Blaise's smile widened.

"Your colourful language Thomas. It's really turning me on."

Dean gasped and leapt off the boy with widened eyes. As Blaise calmly stood up and dusted off his clothes, Dean shook his head, astounded. "Seamus was right," he said, more to himself that the other, "the Slytherins _are_ a horny bunch of perverts."

"Actually, I prefer the term, 'partakers of voyeuristic behaviour'," Blaise said in a civilized tone. He smiled pleasantly. "Now that we've had the usual upsetting confrontation in the corridor, we can continue on with what we were going to do. I was headed for the kitchen. What about you Thomas?"

Dean, surprised at Blaise's sudden change of tone, said carefully, "I was headed for the kitchen too."

"Well, isn't this lovely. Lead the way Griffindor." 

"What the hell??!" And Dean, who kept looking behind him to make sure Blaise wasn't about to hex him into a million pieces, warily lead the way.

* * *

_Coming up..._** Chapter 12- Great Galloping Galoshes!**

A/N: Sorry Haretsu to disappoint you! Truth be told to readers, I have no idea where this story is going! heh... ok ok, so i DID have an vague idea...but then I keep changing my mind, and so changes the plot... (plot? what plot?!) Thanks Megs for your review, and various others (Sara, hmm?!!! tee hee...) 


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